


You're My 12 Step Program

by Peanut_McNut



Series: 12 Step Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_McNut/pseuds/Peanut_McNut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Dean Winchester’s world, unexpected guests have always been a mixed bag, especially ones from the post-apocalyptic future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My 12 Step Program

**Author's Note:**

> This is set a few months after the events of “The End.”

“Why did Sam get a separate room?”

Dean glances at Castiel as they climb the outside stairs that lead up to the second floor of the Comfort Arms Motel. He jams his hands into the pockets of his jeans, searching for his room key, “I don’t know, man.”

Actually, Dean did know. It might have had something to do with the bottle of baby powder Dean had emptied into the motel room’s hair dryer the previous evening while his brother slept. Sam’s hair, along with most of his face and clothes, had turned white that morning when he began what Dean calls Sammy's princess primp routine. Somehow, Sam didn’t find it as funny as Dean did.

“You could apologize to Sam. You should not treat your brother that way, Dean.”

"He told you?"

Castiel just nods.

“Hey! I’ve been telling him to get a haircut for weeks. He should have listened,” Dean grins at Castiel, but the angel only gives him a puzzled look.

Sighing, Dean retrieves the key just as they reach the door. It takes a bit of jiggling before he gets the lock to cooperate. Letting it swing wide, Dean crosses the threshold and tosses his duffle on the floor. Castiel follows, closing the door behind him. Collapsing in one of the shaky desk chairs, Dean reaches down and takes off his boots and socks, enjoying the feel of cool air hitting his feet.

“I’m taking a shower. You hanging out, Cass?” Dean asks as he stands, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it back on the chair.

He manages to take a step towards the bathroom before he's pushed back down into his seat by the angel.

“What the hell, man?”

“We’re not alone.”

Castiel’s eyes never leave the opposite side of the room. Dean follows his gaze. All he can see is the TV, an open closet with one dangling hanger, and the bathroom. The door is closed, but Dean remembers Sam shutting it before they’d left that morning.

“Are you --?”

The bathroom door opens, allowing a rush of steam to come pouring out. Dean is up, the gun pulled from the waistband of his jeans and in his hands before he even fully realizes he’s moved. Castiel remains still by his side. For a moment nothing happens, then a figure appears in the doorway. A man walks into the room shirtless, but thankfully with threadbare jeans on, a towel obscuring his face as he dries his hair.

“Man, how I missed real showers!” When he’s finished toweling off, the man lets it drop and gives Dean a lopsided grin, “I was wondering when you guys would show up.”

Dean almost drops his weapon.

It’s Castiel. Well, kind of. It’s the love guru, stoned out of his mind version of Cass anyway, from that fucked up future Zachariah had shazamed Dean’s ass to almost four months ago. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Castiel beats him to it, marching forward until he's right in Cass’ face.

“Who are you?” Castiel growls.

“Whoa!” Cass looks his past self over, then turns to Dean, “You were right about that whole stick up my ass thing, Dean.”

The look on Castiel’s face when Cass addresses Dean is all thunder and wrath. It’s enough to get Dean moving across the room, grabbing Castiel’s arm before he can get his hands on Cass.

“Wait, wait!”

Castiel turns and glares at Dean, “We don’t know what this is.”

“It’s okay, he’s you. Well, a future version of you and seriously, we’ve been over this whole questions first, smiting later thing. It’s not the other way around, remember?”

Castiel gives Dean what he recognizes to be one of Sammy’s many patented bitch-faces and makes a note to limit the time Castiel spends with Sam when he’s all mopey. Reluctantly, the angel gives a small nod as Dean releases him.

Turning to the new arrival, Dean studies Cass, “How the hell did you get here?”

“Not sure,” Cass shrugs, unconcerned by his sudden appearance in the past, “All I remember is passing out after my customary night cap.”

“You consume alcohol?”

Cass turns towards Castiel and gives him a look that clearly says, “ _Are you new?_ ”

“Among other things. Most recently, I believe it was a mix of absinthe, rum, some strange little yellow pills I found a few days ago on a recon mission, and Bethany. Or was it Alexa?” Cass tilts his head and squints in thought. It’s a disturbing mockery of the same gesture Dean is so used to seeing with Castiel, “I think maybe it was both. Lilly and Brianna too. Actually, there may have been a few other people there, I’m not really sure. The details are a little fuzzy…”

Cass trails off as he tries to remember the multitude of women he may or may not have banged in the recent past. Or five years from now. Whatever.

“You--you have copulated with all these people?”

“The word you’re searching for is ‘orgy’ and yes, yes I did. I think,” Cass beams at Castiel.

Dean is reminded of the night he took Castiel to that brothel. The panic in the angel’s eyes as he’d downed his beer when Chastity had approached them is nothing compared to the look of wide-eyed alarm and outright horror that Castiel has adopted. Dean wonders if angels are capable of having aneurysms as he edges between the two of them, glaring at Cass.

“Leave him alone.”

“Why? Might as well learn all about it now as opposed to later. Might make the slow slide a little easier.”

“It’s not going to happen. I’m not going to let him…” Dean trails off, unable to finish. He had never told his Castiel what he had seen in the future. How far the angel would, no _could_ fall.

Cass leans towards him, invading his personal space just like his Castiel does, “Oh yeah? Well I’m still me, so it looks like you’re doing a bang up job so far.”

Unable to hold his gaze, Dean looks away. Because it’s true. They’re no closer to killing Lucifer or finding God than they were months ago.

“Look, I don’t know why I’m here and I really don’t care. Gotta say, this is definitely an upgrade for me. I’m sure I’ll get shipped back in plenty of time to participate in our little Lucifer hunt tomorrow so --”

Dean’s head snaps back up, “Tomorrow? Wait, am I there in your time?”

Cass simply nods.

“How does that even work?”

“I could explain, but we’d be here awhile and frankly, I’d rather spend my vacation to the past doing something other than teaching you all the complexities of angelic assisted time bending.”

Yeah, Dean didn’t really want to sit and listen to all that either. Cass is barking up the wrong brother for that kind of stuff.

“All right. I guess you’ll just have to stay here until we figure out what to do with you,”

Which was what exactly? It’s not like Dean can just send Cass back to die. He is more than fully aware of what his bastard of a future self has in store for Cass.

An unexpected gleam flickers in those dim, beaten down eyes. He smiles the first real smile Dean thinks he’s ever seen from this Cass, “Thank you, Dean.”

Castiel shifts behind him, uneasy, “Are you sure this is wise?”

Dean turns to him, rolling his eyes, “Cass, this is you we’re talking about! It’s not like I’d just throw you out on your ass when you needed me.”

At these words, the angel gives him that look of undeserved devotion he sometimes tosses his way and Dean wonders if it’s not him who's having the aneurysm here, not Castiel. There are way too many freaking Castiels in this room. Shaking his head, he mumbles something about “damn angels” as he flops on the bed. Leaning back against the headboard, he runs a weary hand over his face.

“I’m surprised you’re staying. Shouldn’t you be out getting plowed, or be the one doing the plowing?” he hears Cass ask.

“Dean doesn’t do that anymore.”

He stifles a groan and thinks seriously about hiding behind his hand for the rest of eternity. Instead, he looks up at the two Castiels. His Castiel is glaring at his possible future self, while the other is sneering at Dean.

“Oh, I remember that period,” Cass says as he moves closer to Dean, causing the hunter to scoot more towards the middle of the bed, “I’d thought it was because you were tired. Stretched too thin due to the pressures of fighting an oncoming apocalypse.”

Cass stops right next to Dean as their eyes lock. This stare he knows. It was always the creepiest part of this future version of Cass for Dean. These instances where he was so Castiel mixed together with something so bizarre and so irrevocably broken. Cass leans in closer, the smirk falling from his face.

“But that wasn’t it was it?”

Dean tries to swallow, but his throat won’t work. Instead, he manages a gruff, “What was it?”

Dry, forever chapped lips are crashing against his before Dean can even begin to recognize what’s happening. There’s a madness to the demanding press of Cass’ lips. He tastes of alcohol and grimy earth. It’s nothing like he’d imagined Castiel to taste like. Not that Dean had ever imagined that…

“Dean!”

The sound of Castiel calling his name seems farther away than it should be, but it doesn’t damper it’s unexpected effectiveness. A low moan escapes Dean as he reaches up, tangling his fingers in Cass’ hair and pulling him closer.

Then he’s gone. Dean is left gasping and grasping at nothing but air. He’s also left half hard in his jeans, his mind stuck looping on, “ _What the hell? What the hell_?” He opens his eyes to find Cass being manhandled by a pissed off Castiel.

“Don’t you ever touch Dean Winchester like that!” Castiel growls, his nose almost touching Cass’, “It’s not right.”

Cass wrenches himself free from Castiel’s hold, “Will you just look at him? He liked it.”

Castiel pauses before he turns and stares at Dean, who can only pant up at him.

“Dean?”

“Cass…” Dean manages. He meant it to sound more reassuring, but it comes out as part whimper, part plead.

Cass folds his arms, leering at Castiel in triumph, “See?”

“Oh,” Castiel abruptly breaks their eye contact, which Dean is pretty sure has only happened maybe one other time in the entire time they've known each other.

Castiel doesn't show emotion often, at least not by human standards. Anyone else might think he's some sort of strange robot cyborg hybrid, or an uptight statue. But after all this time, Dean knows there are tiny differences and looking closer, he can see the hurt and confusion warring in the angel.

“Perhaps, I should just --”

He looks like he’s about to flap the hell away. Dean starts to get up, though what he hopes to do as far as getting Castiel to stay is beyond him. It’s not like he’d be much of a match for even a semi-fallen angel.

Dean never makes it off the bed.

“Don’t be an idiot!” Cass says. Grinning, he pushes Castiel. Surprised, the angel tries to overcompensate and ends up falling the short distance front first onto Dean. They land in a heap on the bed, “Jealousy doesn’t become us, Castiel. Especially when it’s uncalled for.”

Dean wants to tell the bastard to blow it out his ass, but finds himself preoccupied with arms full of distressed angel. Almost straddling Dean, Castiel squirms around on top of him in an attempt to get up. His efforts are hindered by the fact that part of his ever-present trench coat is trapped underneath Dean. All this action is doing nothing to help Dean’s hard-on problem by doing everything to help it along. Another moan slips past his lips before he can catch himself and Castiel stops moving.

The mound of dark, rumpled hair tilts up until wide, blue eyes bore into him. Castiel’s face is mere inches away from his and Dean finds breathing difficult.

“You know what you want, Castiel,” Cass says quietly. He stands next to them, stooping until he’s level with Castiel, “I know what thoughts lurk in the depths of your mind while you search for our wayward Father.”

Dean watches as Castiel’s gaze travels down to Dean’s lips, “I miss my friends.”

“That’s not it. Try again.”

For a moment, Dean doesn’t think Castiel is going to answer.

“I miss…Dean,” he whispers.

Castiel’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip, leaving part of it glistening wet in the dim light coming from the dusty green lamp between the two beds.

“You want Dean.”

“I --”

Quick, soft gusts of warm breath brush against Dean’s cheek as Castiel shifts the slightest bit closer, dragging his thigh against Dean’s painfully hard dick. Letting out a huff of air, Dean twists his hands in the fabric of the trench coat, caught somewhere between wanting to throw Castiel off and grinding up into him in search of more friction.

It’s not that Dean hasn’t done this kind of stuff with a guy before, because there were more than a few times back when Dean was in his early twenties. Some of them were drunken episodes he remembers through the whiskey induced haze. Others can’t be blamed on the alcohol. Under the right circumstances, Dean Winchester definitely swings that way.

It’s just that this is Castiel. He’s seen how Sam saying “yes” to Lucifer would affect the angel. Hell, the evidence is standing the room with them right now. Dean refuses to be just another reason for the angel to fall that much faster. Getting deflowered by the not-so-righteous Righteous Man would have to give that transition one heck of a jump start.

Cass leans in, whispering in Castiel’s ear, “The farther you fall from Heaven, the more you feel. The more you want to feel. It’s cold on your own isn’t it? You’re cut off from the constant fellowship of the Host and you’re floundering. But with Dean it’s not like that. With Dean it’s --”

“So warm…” Castiel murmurs, voice broken as he runs his hands down Dean’s sides. His fingers hit skin where Dean’s shirt has ridden up near his jeans.

Dean’s hips buck of their own accord, “Fuck! Cass!”

“Dean,” Castiel growls before closing the final few inches of distance between them.

Whatever thoughts Dean may have had about saving the angel’s virtue die as Castiel’s lips collide with his. Instead of that familiar taste of alcohol, Dean is reminded of a cool, crisp winter breeze. These lips are just as chapped as Cass’ and there’s still a note of frenzy behind the kiss, but it’s so much softer. Purer. Where Cass wanted to possess, Castiel is all reverence.

Castiel’s hands shove at his navy shirt trapped between them and Dean finds himself in complete agreement; they have way too many layers on. He fights with the trench coat and suit jacket, getting little to no help from Castiel who is far too preoccupied with Dean’s clothes. He’s about to tell the angel they can’t both be the boss here, when the rough material under his hand is suddenly replaced by the soft cotton of Castiel’s dress shirt.

Opening his eyes, Dean sees Cass dragging both coats off Castiel’s body. The angel obliges his future self long enough to get his arms out before returning to his frantic search for yet undiscovered patches of Dean’s skin. For a second, Dean wonders why Cass is pushing so hard for this, but loses all train of thought when he feels Castiel’s tongue trace his bottom lip before gently biting it.

“Where the hell did you learn to do that?” Dean gasps, looking at Castiel in shock.

“Take this shirt off. Now.”

Maybe there were never two bosses to begin with. Castiel sits up, working on his own shirt, allowing Dean enough room to remove his. Dean tosses it off to the side and looks back to Castiel just in time to see the angel dragging his undershirt over his head. Cass had been shirtless this entire time, so it’s not like Dean didn’t know what was coming, but like with everything else, the differences between the two Castiels are striking.

Cass is covered in scars. One nasty one runs down his right side, jutting out towards his belly button. He still has that lithe, streamlined look about him, but he’s too thin. There’s more than a hint of bones visible depending on how Cass moves. Castiel, on the other hand, is smooth. Dean’s eyes travel the lines of his well-defined chest up to a collar bone that begs to be nibbled on.

Leveraging himself up enough to wrap an arm around the angel’s neck, Dean pulls him back down, needing to feel Castiel’s skin on his own. He runs one hand along the soft skin of Castiel’s back, tangling the other in the angel’s hair. He tries to kiss him, but Castiel has other ideas, giving Dean’s lips only a cursory graze before cutting a path down Dean’s jaw, stopping to nip at his earlobe before continuing down his neck.

“Jesus Cass, what do they teach you in angel school?”

A huff of a laugh ghosts across the damp lines Castiel’s tongue left on his neck, causing Dean to shiver. Castiel shakes his head, “We do not learn such things in Heaven, Dean.”

Stifling a gasp as Castiel reaches his right nipple, Dean says “Heaven’s not all it’s cracked up to be then.”

Teeth bear down a little too hard for Dean’s tastes, “Hey!”

“Apologies,” Castiel murmurs against him, sounding amused and less than apologetic. His tongue laves the afflicted area, pausing only to worry his nipple between full lips.

Dean writhes under Castiel’s expert ministrations, but it soon becomes clear that whatever how-to guide the angel had got his hands on did not cover what options come next. While Castiel is stuck in a hot holding pattern, it’s a holding pattern none the less and Dean’s dick needs some relief from the constraints of his jeans before he loses it.

Cass must come to the same conclusion, “For the love of… Castiel, you need to get this show on the road before you kill him.”

Castiel’s head pops up at that, eyes wide with concern.

“Watch and learn,” Cass says with an irritated sigh.

Cass directs Castiel to move out of the way. The angel sits on the bed next to Dean and studies his face, still worried that he had harmed him. Dean smiles and squeezes the angel’s arm, hoping that will be enough to calm him down. Cass makes quick work of his jeans. Dean moans as both denim and underwear slide down and off of him. He never would have thought he’d be so happy to have Cass, orgy master of the future, around. Throwing the garments aside, Cass retakes his position between Dean’s legs and catches Castiel’s gaze.

“Watch.”

With that, he bends forward and licks from the base of Dean’s dick all the way up to the tip. Dean’s hips thrust upwards as he cries out. Cass holds Dean down with one hand as he grips the base of his cock with the other. Dean catches Cass’ eyes for only a split second before Cass swallows him whole.

Dean fights the urge to push up, clenching the sheets tight in this fists. He looks over at Castiel, who is doing as he was told and concentrating so hard on the proceedings Dean’s surprised he can’t see smoke billowing out of his ears. He pulls Castiel’s arm towards him, earning him a confused look before the angel realizes what it is he wants. Castiel lies down next to him as Dean attacks his mouth.

Dean finds himself alternating between frantically licking his way into Castiel’s mouth and being rendered useless by Cass’ attentions. Cass leaves him gasping for air against Castiel’s open and waiting mouth until his brain kicks back in. Castiel runs his hand through Dean’s hair, fingers trailing down to skim across the lines of his face. Through it all, he holds Dean tight, keeping him anchored.

If it were physically possible, Dean figures he could stay like this for the rest of his life, but after what seems like only a few seconds, that wonderful, wet heat disappears.

“Okay Castiel, get over here.”

Upon hearing his name, Castiel reluctantly detaches himself from Dean. Hair sticking out in every direction and lips swollen, the angel paints an obscene picture. Dean remains still, trying to remember how to get air into his lungs as Castiel moves towards the end of the bed. After a few moments, he starts to settle down and becomes aware of the conversation that is being held at the end of the bed.

“…you know the mechanics of it. All you have to do is open yourself up and Dean will take it from there.”

Something about that sentence gets under Dean’s skin.

“ _…and Dean will take…_ ”

Castiel has done everything for Dean. He’d turned his back on what counts as his family. He saved him and Sam who knows how many times. Castiel freaking raised him from Hell. And yeah, here tonight, that’s pretty much all Dean’s done again. Take. Well, fuck that noise.

“No,” Dean says as he props up on his elbows.

In any other circumstance, the twin head tilts of confusion Dean receives would have had him laughing his ass off.

“No?” Castiel asks, dispirited, “You don’t want to --”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Yes Cass, I want to. I really want to, believe me.”

“Good, now that we got that all cleared up,” Cass grumbles at Dean, as he turns to Castiel, “Get the pants off and I’ll get you ready.”

“No, damn it! That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t want him to get ready.”

“That’s how this works, Dean. One of you has to --” Cass comes up short, staring at Dean as though he’s never seen him before, “You’re kidding right? You’ve never…”

Cass looks away, his face no longer visible to Dean. He’s not sure what’s going on, but he can see the tension in the other man’s shoulders. Cass’ whole body is strung tight as a bow. Castiel watches Cass in what passes for his 'very concerned' face.

Dean sits all the way up and reaches towards future Cass, “Hey man, are you --?”

“What?” Cass snaps, jumping at the touch. When he turns back towards them, that smarmy smile is fixed back into place, “Hey, if you want Castiel up your ass, who am I to judge?”

Cass slides off the bed and walks over to the other side of the room. He crouches down next to Dean’s duffel and rummages through it. Dean watches him, not for the first time wondering what has happened to Cass to cause such a drastic change. He would have continued staring, but the light brush of fingertips at his shoulder draws his attention away. Dean turns his head and sees that Castiel has somehow scooted flush up against him without him noticing.

“You don’t have to do this, Dean,” Castiel says, voice quiet.

Castiel seems confused by his decision. Dean can see the puzzlement, but he can also see desire lurking in the angel’s eyes. The hunger. Castiel wants this. Dean can see the love Castiel has for him. He sees the absolute trust and the willingness to sacrifice what Castiel needs in order to give Dean what he wants.

But, the thing that Castiel never seems to get is that, even though he hasn’t always been that good at showing it, it’s the same for Dean. It always has been. Maybe what they’re doing isn’t right, but damn it, it feels right. It's right for them. Castiel looks through Dean with his x-ray vision gaze and Dean stares right back.

“You’re right. I'm doing it because want to,” Castiel doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face forces Dean to add, “I know this is all intimate and whatever, but seriously dude, don’t chick flick out on me. I don’t think I can deal with that right now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but all right.”

Dean chuckles as he leans in, placing a soft kiss against the angel’s lips.

“Here we go,” Cass says, making his way back to them.

Turning, Dean sees a small bottle of lube in his hand, “How did you know that was in there?”

“I thought I told you the pants have to go,” Cass says to Castiel, keeping his eyes away from Dean.

He only gets a glance at Castiel as he removes his last layers of clothing before Dean is being pushed back down by Cass. He winces at the burn as Cass talks Castiel through stretching those tight muscles. The next few minutes are painful, but don’t even come close to the worst he’s ever felt. Dean had never been the one on the bottom before tonight, so it comes out of left field when one of Castiel’s fingers hits that sweet spot.

“Son of a bitch!”

“That’s it. Just keep hitting that,” Cass says, like he’s teaching a freaking English class.

Never let it be said that Castiel isn’t a quick study. Not only does he “keep hitting that,” the angel also makes the executive decision to throw in a little tongue and mouth action, playing with the head of Dean’s cock as he goes. It almost sends Dean careening off the bed. He draws in ragged breaths, once again unable to get enough air as he writhes on the bed. It’s not long before he’s tugging at Castiel’s hair.

“Damn it Cass, fuck me or I’m retaking the reigns!”

Castiel gives one last enthusiastic suck, eliciting a string of curses from Dean. It’s meant to be a reminder of who’s in charge here, and Dean can roll with that since the angel withdraws only to reposition himself on his knees between Dean’s legs. He scoots closer to Castiel, an open invitation to get on with it already.

Handing Castiel the bottle of lube, Cass retreats to the other bed, sitting down on the edge. Castiel makes good use of it. The angel’s hand glides up and down his hard shaft, eyes closing and head tilting back as he savors the feeling. Dean lets out a low whimper at the sight. The sound brings Castiel back, eyes opening and training on Dean.

He leans forward, hands latching on to Dean’s hips. He can feel the tip of Castiel’s dick teasing at his entrance. He shifts closer, his body practically begging, but still Castiel hesitates. Their eyes lock and it seems to Dean that the angel is asking for permission. One last chance to turn back.

Dean nods, hands traveling up the angel’s arms, willing him closer and Castiel concedes.

As slow and gentle as Castiel is, it’s still painful. Muscles stretch and Dean fights to stay relaxed as the angel descends. For a moment, Dean’s not sure he’ll be able to take all of him, but he does. Castiel moans, hands slipping off Dean’s hips to clench at the sheets. Dean can feel him shaking under his hands. He takes a breath, relaxing as much as he can as Dean draws Castiel closer to him, hands skimming across his back.

“Dean,” he breathes, pupils blown wide.

“It’s okay, Cass,” Dean mumbles against the angel's lips, giving him a quick kiss, “Move.”

It’s awkward at first. Both struggle to find a rhythm, but as Castiel gets more comfortable, they start to fall together. Dean wraps his legs around the angel. He holds him tight, kissing at his neck and shoulders, finding his lips whenever possible. Trapped between their bodies, Dean’s dick finds the friction he so desperately needed.

That, combined with every thrust of Castiel burrowing deeper inside him, is enough to make Dean feel lightheaded as sparks shoot up and down his body. It's like every nerve he has is on fire. Castiel clutches to Dean, trying to hold it together as he gets closer and closer to that delicious fall. Over and over, his name trips off the angel’s tongue.

Dean imagines if Castiel was still at full charge, he would be able last all night if he wanted. As it is, he’s more human now than angel and, most importantly, all virgin. He doesn’t last long. Dean steadies him as he flies apart, shuddering and gasping for air. Once the aftershocks subside, Castiel pulls out, and Dean gathers his angel to him, laying him down next to him.

For a guy who was used to not feeling much of anything this has to be a mind-blowing experience. Dean had never been one for cuddling, but Castiel seems to need it and as it turns out, it’s not so bad when it’s an angel in your arms. Or maybe just when it’s this one. He places a soft kiss on Castiel’s forehead as he runs his fingers through his hair. Castiel curls into him, his ragged breathing soon returning to a more natural pace. It takes a few minutes for Dean to realize that his breathing has turned into light snoring, the angel having fallen asleep on him.

This wasn’t the first time Castiel had crashed in recent weeks, but it was still a rarity. Shaking his head, Dean eases out of Castiel’s embrace and stands. He pauses for a moment to watch Castiel’s chest rise and fall, his face relaxed and unworried. Unsure whether or not almost-human angels get cold while sleeping, Dean untangles enough blanket to cover Castiel.

“You need some help with that?”

Dean turns and raises his eyebrows at Cass, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. Cass’ eyes travel down Dean. He follows his gaze and realizes that somehow, after all that, he was still hard. Looking up, he takes in the smarmy, uncaring grin stretched thin over Cass’ features. Beyond what seems to be his default expression, Dean can see the unabashed hope swirling in those dimmed blue eyes, along with something else. Was it fear?

He would never understand what made this version of Castiel tick. He would never know what had happened in the future to break the once unflappable soldier of God. What Dean does know is this Cass and his Castiel are far closer to each other than he will ever be willing to admit. But Castiel had Dean and, for whatever fucked up reason, Cass didn’t. At least for tonight, Dean could give him that.

Dean nods and Cass immediately removes his beaten and battered jeans, letting them fall to the floor. Cass is hard already, his swollen cock curling up towards his belly as he scoots back further on the other bed. Dean can’t blame him. The dude had just watched his other self get his rocks off and he figures that was pretty fucking hot.

What does surprise Dean is that, once in the middle of the bed, Cass flips over onto his stomach. Turning his face away, Cass lies there silent, the muscles in his back visibly tense from where Dean stands next to the bed. Everything about this situation screams, “proceed cautiously,” but being a Winchester, Dean ignores that instinct and dives right in.

Straddling Cass’ legs, he runs his hands along the former angel’s sides. Dean leans in to press his lips down the line of his spine, taking his time. For his efforts, he receives a startled gasp, but not the good kind. If it’s possible, Cass tenses up even more. Confused, Dean decides to use a more direct approach. It takes some silent convincing, and maybe a forceful shove or two, but Dean gets Cass to turn over.

He might have won that first battle, but damned if Dean can get Cass to look at him.

Dean tries everything he can think of to get a positive response short of going down on him. At this point, he’s a little afraid that might push Cass over the edge. Dean puts every last bit of feeling he can muster into every kiss he lays on Cass’ skin. He kisses every mark that mars the once pristine flesh. His fingertips trace the horrendous scar that runs across half of Cass’ torso. The fallen angel whimpers turn close to sobs as he goes, leaving Dean at a total loss for what he’s supposed to be doing here.

In a last ditch effort, Dean makes his way up Cass’ chest and along his neck, setting a course for the man’s lips with the intent of persuading Cass to turn towards him. Dean gets what he wants.

When Cass realizes what Dean is up to however, he jerks away. Wide, shocked eyes stare at him, “Dean, don’t.”

“Damn it Cass! What is it? What am I doing wrong here?”

Cass looks petrified, “It’s not-- You’re not --”

“Are you trying to tell me it’s one of those, “it’s not you, it’s me” kind of things?”

“Yes?”

“Jesus, Cass…” Dean sighs in a defeated tone, letting his head drop to Cass’ shoulder, “I just don’t understand.”

They’re silent for a moment, Dean still holding himself over the fallen angel. When Cass does speak, his voice sounds a little stronger, but resigned, “There’s nothing to understand, Dean. Just get on with it.”

With that, the former angel rolls back over, disregarding any attempts Dean makes to prevent it. Dean finds himself once again staring at his back, “Cass --”

“Please, Dean,” Cass interrupts, murmuring into the crinkled sheets, “Do it.”

He glares at the back of Cass’ head. Well fine, if that’s how Cass wants it, Dean can work with that. He rolls off the ex-angel, grabbing the lube lying forgotten on the side of the bed Castiel is sleeping on. He puts it to good use, sliding up and down his dick, bucking up into his hand at the touch. Dean has ignored it for way too long. He starts trying to prep Cass, not wanting to hurt the guy, but the fallen angel reaches back, stopping his hand.

"I'm fine, Dean. Go ahead."

With a frustrated huff, Dean lies down next to Cass, flush up against the man’s back, putting a hand on his hip and coaxing him to turn on to his side. Knowing it would be a fight, Dean slips his other arm under Cass’ shoulder, wrapping it around the fallen angel as he draws him closer. He waits out the protest, holding Cass fast. Dean comes to the conclusion that even this is too intimate for Cass. The man in his arms has been abused, used, and tossed aside too many times to count. Dean is too afraid to ask by who.

“Cass, please,” Dean whispers into the crook of his neck, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

The frantic movement stops, but Cass is already shaking his head violently, “I can’t do this. Not like this.”

“Do you trust me?”

For awhile, all Dean can hear is the sound of Cass’ uneven breathing. His cock rubs up against the former angel’s ass and it takes everything Dean has not to just slam into him. Instead, he rests his head against the back of Cass’ neck as he draws random circles along his hip, waiting. The hand that rests on Cass’ chest rises and falls as he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes.”

Dean nods against him as he moves his hand down to lift Cass’ leg, drawing it back to rest against his own. Dean pushes in slow, fighting against the urge to bury himself too quick into that deliciously tight heat. As he closes that last little bit of distance, Dean lets out a rush of air he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. He pauses, clutching at Cass and letting him adjust. That must be a good call. The tension starts to dissipate as he feels the fallen angel almost relax in his arms.

“You ready?”

Cass nods and Dean starts to move. He takes it slow. So fucking slow it’s almost torture for him. After so long a night, he wants to pound into Cass hard and fast, but that’s not what Cass needs. Hell, it might break him. So Dean goes slow. Gentle. He wraps both arms around the Cass, holding on tight.

Dean knows he’s getting somewhere when a strangled moan escapes Cass. Encouraged, Dean kisses along his shoulder, making a path up his long, slender neck. Cass shivers under him, hips involuntarily pushing back into him. Dean speeds up just a little, still keeping each thrust steady and measured.

Gasps and whimpers fall from Cass’ lips as Dean finds that sweet spot. He doesn’t fight when Dean’s hand travels down Cass’ body to stroke his dick, touch light at first. Dean’s grateful for the remnants of lube that remained on his hand, making it easier to glide up and down Cass. He teases the tip with his thumb, hand gripping a little tighter to the too hot skin as Dean starts jacking him off in time with his thrusts. It surprises Dean when Cass actually bucks up into his hand, caught between the instinct to move forward and the desire to push back.

“Cass…” Dean breathes against his skin.

He nips at the nape of Cass’ neck, fighting to stay in control and losing the battle. Cass reaches back behind him, hand tangling in Dean’s hair, tugging him closer.

“Harder,” Cass pants, “Dean… Harder!”

Groaning, Dean obeys. He lets his head fall forward, his forehead resting against the back of Cass’ head and eyes falling shut. He struggles to keep up, becoming disjointed in his movements as he gets closer and closer to the brink. Cass is like a man possessed, twisting and writhing, grabbing at Dean wherever he can.

Cass goes first, Dean’s name ripped from his throat as he falls over the edge. Dean stays with him through it, continuing to move his hand up and down as Cass tumbles back down to earth. It can’t last, however, and Dean is right behind him. He comes with a shout, gripping tighter to Cass than ever before. He loses track of everything for a moment, his whole existence narrowing down to that blissful feeling of release. It’s Cass’ voice that brings him back. Cass calling his name.

“Cass? All right?” Dean manages to ask, feeling more exhausted that he has in years, despite the Apocalypse. He pulls out of Cass as gentle as he can, but remains wrapped around him, not willing to let the other man go, “Told you I had you, see?”

“Yes, you did, Dean.”

There’s a peace in Cass’ voice now. His body is warm and loose next to Dean, no longer pulled tight by stress, anxiety, and whatever the hell else he has going on. Dean likes it. He sighs, settling in with Cass still in his arms, eyes feeling heavy. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this tired.

“Hey Cass?” There’s no answer. Dean notices the steady rise and fall of Cass’ chest, his breathing slow and deep. He chuckles, placing one last kiss onto his neck, “Sweet dreams, buddy.”

With that, Dean Winchester is out like a light.

**********

Cass is well aware of the fact that he is not at all what he used to be. Not by a long shot. Even so, he still finds a small amount of pride in the fact that he is not completely useless. With much grunting and many muttered curses, he manages to move Dean's deadweight back over onto the bed with Castiel, not wanting his past self to wake up without his charge by his side. What can he say? He knows himself.

Dressing in his shabby blue tunic and jeans, Cass glances out to see the pre-dawn light creeping up on the horizon. He turns away from the grime smeared window, eyes falling on the sleeping men. Dean lies on his back, one arm wrapped around Castiel, who had reattached himself to Dean as soon as the hunter had hit the bed. Dean’s head rests against the sleep mussed mess of black hair as Castiel’s arm hangs across Dean’s stomach.

They look peaceful. Content. Maybe even happy. Cass smiles at the thought, but as usual, another more sinister one peaks out from the dark corners of his mind, shattering it.

“ _What? I like past you._ ”

It had been a dig, designed to get under his Dean’s skin. It had worked and he’d been punished for it. He can almost feel the rough wood of the back of his cabin scraping into his cheek as his Dean had taken him from behind. He can recall with vivid clarity the burn and the pain as skin tore and blood was drawn from his Dean’s brutal attentions. And that hadn’t been the worst of it.

Sighing, Cass tears himself away from the scene in front of him. He doesn’t look back as he opens the beat-up motel room door and slips out. The crisp, early morning air is like a slap in the face after leaving the cozy warmth. Cass leans against the railing, looking out at the town as it begins to wake up. It’s a surreal seeing normal people going about their normal lives. People ordering coffee from the cafe across the way. Cars flying by, carrying kids to school and adults to work. He’s not seen the world like this in what feels like an eternity.

“I never did figure out why they were all in such a hurry to get to places they didn’t want to be.”

Cass sighs, “Hello Gabriel.”

He turns to his right and takes in the sight of his older brother. Gabriel stares back at him, arms crossed as he leans his hip against the railing, an orange lollipop balanced between his fingers.

“So, how did it go? But please spare me the gory details. I really don’t need to know how ol’ Dean-O is in the sack. Now, if you have any information on that brother of his…” Gabriel wiggles his brows as Cass rolls his eyes, “What?”

Cass chooses to ignore his brother, “I suppose I have you to thank for my other self falling asleep.”

Gabriel shrugs, placing the sucker in his mouth, “Among a few other things. How did you know?”

Cass snorts, turning away, “I might have been falling fast at the time, but I wasn’t that far gone yet.”

They both stare out at the humans in silence for a moment. Well, Gabriel stares at the humans. Cass watches his fellow man.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s because I can’t and you know it.”

Gabriel shakes his head, “You always were a handful. Fine, I’ll ask you another. Was it worth it?”

Cass’ eyes fall to his folded hands, hanging out over the cold, black rail. He can still feel Dean’s hair between his fingers. The feel of Dean’s lips against his neck. Cass had feigned sleep, turning only when he had been certain the other man had slipped into unconsciousness. He’d wanted to memorize Dean all over again. He had wanted to touch, to feel, and take all night doing so.

But this was not his Dean. He’d reminded himself of that as he’d watched Dean and Castiel. He’d watched them find each other and learn to move together, something he and his Dean had never achieved. Cass was grateful to this Dean for trying to comfort him. Trying to give of himself. He remembers when his Dean was still capable of doing the same. This Dean had managed to ease his suffering, but it wasn’t enough. It would never been enough. Because, he wasn’t Cass’ Dean.

But was it all worth it?

“Yes,” Cass murmurs to himself more than to Gabriel.

“Good”

“I just don’t understand what your game is, Gabriel. Why find me and bring me back here?”

The archangel gazes ahead, crunching on his lollipop, “You don’t deserve what’s happened to you.”

Cass coughs out a mirthless laugh, “I rebelled. I chose a human over my brothers. Maybe even over our Father’s will. I --”

“You did nothing wrong,” Gabriel says, interrupting, “If I can run away from Heaven. Shirk my duties for a couple millennia…”

“Gabriel…”

“Look, I will never, ever say this again, but I’m kind of fond of you, kiddo. Always have been. You were always such a quirky little thing. Not only that, you drove Raphael insane when you were younger which,” Gabriel gives him a wicked grin, “I fully appreciated.”

“You were probably the only one.”

“Yeah well, angels are dicks,” Cass’ head flies up as he stares at the archangel in confusion. Gabriel shrugs, “Hey, Winchester’s a moron, but he can be right every once in awhile. A great while.”

Smiling, Cass turns. He looks back out toward the horizon as the sun starts to make her full appearance. Pinks and reds spill across the small town, painting the buildings in dazzling hues. It’s going to be a lovely day.

“You know it’s going to be different when you go back. It may not be much, since you know… The Apocalypse is still full steam ahead, but you’ll still be different. You might not even remember this. I just don’t --”

“Will my Dean be there?” Castiel asks.

Gabriel nods.

“Then it will be fine.”

“I will never understand what you see in him, baby bro.”

“ _Nor will I,_ ” Cass thinks to himself, as he grins at Gabriel.

Out loud he says, “Well, if you only knew what he can do with his tongue. You see --”

“I will smite you where you stand, Castiel! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Gabriel shouts, clapping his hands over his ears.

Cass just laughs. A real laugh. One he hasn’t heard come from himself in years. When he's able to settle back down, Gabriel is looking at him strangely. He’s about to ask what his problem is, when his brother speaks.

“Are you ready?”

Taking a breath, Cass glances back at the motel room door. Behind that door lies his hope of a better present with Dean. His Dean.

“Yes,” Cass lets out his breath as the archangel raises his hand, “And, Gabriel… Thanks.”

He’s rewarded with a genuine smile from his brother. One not many have ever been privileged enough to see, “Good luck, brother.”

With that, two fingers press against Cass’ forehead and he’s gone.


End file.
